


Claimed (Soulmates Part 3)

by IarnaStrom



Series: Soulmates [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Slow Build, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IarnaStrom/pseuds/IarnaStrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily begins to confront her memories of the past before discovering the power Sam truly holds over her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claimed (Soulmates Part 3)

Emily got out of her car with her duffle over her shoulder and kicked the door shut with more force than was necessary. Rufus had arrived within the hour as promised to wrestle Sam’s unwieldy, unconscious body into the backseat of the Cougar. Rufus drove the hour and a half north to Bobby’s while she sat with Sam, keeping her fingers on his pulse while he slept. When he started to stir sooner than she’d anticipated, she hit him with another dose of tranquilizers and prayed it wasn’t too much. He was already going to have a splitting headache when he came to, but at least, she would have the chance to restrain him first. 

When they’d arrived at the salvage yard and drug Sam in through the front door of Bobby’s house without knocking, the old hunter had blown a gasket. He took Sam’s arm from over Emily’s shoulders and helped them get him upstairs to the room she’d always claimed as hers when she’d stayed there as a kid. It still only had a twin mattress, which was fine for her small frame even as an adult, but Sam’s heavy body spilled over the ends, making it look comically small beneath him. She’d grabbed a length of rope from the basement while Bobby followed her, berating her for going against what he’d told her to do, and then returned to tie Sam’s wrists and ankles to the bed frame. 

She’d avoided talking to Bobby afterward by driving Rufus back to his truck at the motel, giving them both the chance to cool their heels before going toe-to-toe. If there was ever a person that could make her feel like a little girl in trouble, it was Bobby. Even Rufus treated her like an equal after hunting together for as long as they had. But grumpy old Singer reminded her way too much of her father not to cow to him when he was angry. Worse yet was the fact that she was so wired with an energy she felt like her skin was vibrating. She was in a dangerous frame of mind that had led her to wipe out entire ghoul infestations by herself with a manic smile in the past. She’d needed the time to get her head on straight and calm down before she spoke with the man who’d opened his home to her. 

She paused with her ass leaning against the front of her car as the front door of the old farmhouse opened and Bobby filled the frame with a bottle of rot-gut whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other. She wasn’t sure he would be willing to let her past the porch and didn’t want to get near him if he was just going to start yelling again. But he just shook his head and stepped back, silently telling her to come inside. With a deep breath, she pushed away from the front of her car and stepping up onto the porch, taking the glass from Bobby as he held it out for her. She downed the amber liquid with a wince as it burned its way down and pooled in her belly. Warm slowly seeped into her bones as it settled, calming her jittery nerves better than the drive had by leaps and bounds. 

“Is he awake?” she asked as she set her duffle down by the door and handed the empty glass back to Bobby. 

“Yep,” he said with a shake of his head. “He started hollerin’ the minute he realized he was tied down.” 

“You didn’t untie him, did you?” she asked and he shook his head again. 

“No,” he said, “but he’s been coming up with a few colorful ways to express his irritation in your direction. What were you thinking, Emily?” 

“I was thinking he’s a lot worse off than you led me to believe,” she said bluntly. “Can’t you feel the wrongness of him?” 

“I know something is off about him,” he said, his graying eyebrows pulling together in a frown. “But I don’t get any funny feelings are anything. That’s your department, remember?” 

Emily nodded and ran her hand over the back of her neck where more little flowers dotted her skin. Bobby was one of the few hunters she trusted to know her secret to a point. He knew she wasn’t totally human, but he didn’t know what she was. He trusted her gut more than she did half the time when it came to people and the things they hunted, though, and had proven that fact numerous times after Sam and Dean had started looking or their father. She’d shadowed them at Bobby’s request, always ready to step in if they’d gotten in over their heads. Thankfully, they were good at what they did and hadn’t needed her until Dean had gone and sold his soul to save Sam’s life. If he’d just waited another couple of hours to summon the crossroads demon that drew up his contract, she would have been able to bargain with mother’s gods to bring him back without damning the older Winchester to Hell. 

That one well-intended, impulsive fuck-up had sent her scrambling to find a way to break his contract before it was too late. With the boys hunting Lilith at the same time, she’d been focused on hunting the King of the Crossroads, Crowley. She’d found him easily enough and he’d been more than willing to do her a solid when it came to tearing up Dean’s contract if she’d help him eliminate his competition in Hell. Crowley had known the Judeo-Christian Hell couldn’t hold her unless she chose to stay and used her as his own person attack dog to shred the higher ranking demons standing in his way of the throne. Because her time with him, half of her back was covered in red, five-petal forget-me-nots. But Crowley had failed to tell her that he didn’t hold Dean’s contract in time. 

“What the hell happened out there, anyway?” Bobby asked as he handed her another glass of rot-gut. “I said to observe and report only. Someone could have gotten hurt.” 

“He knew I was following him and grabbed me,” she said, breathing out a heavy sigh as she took a sip from the glass. “I don’t get it. He shouldn’t have known I was there at all, let alone sneak up on me. I’ve been inches away from him before and he’s never even shivered. Tonight it was like he could feel me there, but I couldn’t feel him at all,” she said. “When it came down to it, I had a choice. Either knock him out or take him out. And I didn’t think you’d appreciate me putting a bullet in your baby boy’s big head.” 

“He attacked you?” Bobby asked in surprise. 

“Sort of,” she said, deciding to skip over the part of the night where he’d also managed to give her the first assisted orgasm she’d ever had. “He’s not himself, Bobby. By any means. But I need to get in his head to figure out what’s going on with him.” 

“I don’t like the idea of you being anywhere near him with the threats he’s been spewing,” Bobby said, shaking his head as she put the whiskey glass down and started towards the stairs. “I know you can handle yourself in a fight well enough. But you’ve always had a soft spot for Sam and I think you’d let him kill you before you defended yourself properly.” 

“I don’t have a soft spot for Sam,” she said defensively, hating that the old hunter could see her weakness so easily. “If it comes down to a choice between his life or mine, I like me better.” 

“What the hell happened to you, Em?” he asked, his face screwing up in concern at her harsh words. “You used to be a bright, smiling girl that had a real future. Now, you only think in terms of kill or be killed.” 

“I’m a soldier, Bobby,” she said, rolling her shoulders against the sudden discomfort creeping up her spine. They’d had a conversation similar to that one once before after Sam had taken the dive into the cage after she’d returned. She hadn’t wanted to answer him then and she still didn’t. There was only three living beings topside that knew what had happened to her; her, Crowley, and Dean. “That innocent, love-sick little girl died a long time ago.” 

“Love-sick?” Bobby asked, making her realize what she’d said. He may have known that she cared about Sam, but he hadn’t known to what extent. She looked up at him as the wheels in his head started to turn, making his eyes shift as he inserted a new perspective into what he remembered of her past. “You went dark after Dean died and then tried to drink yourself to death after we thought we lost Sam. Emily, are you in love with the boys?” 

“No,” she said harshly, rolling her neck from side to side to crack her neck and pulling her hunting knife out to flip it back and forth by the handle. 

“Bull,” Bobby said, narrowing his eyes at her. “If not both of them, then, at least, one of those boys has you by the heartstrings. Spill it, Em. Which one is it? Is it Dean?” 

“Gods, no,” she said with more venom than was necessary and then winced when she realized how disgusted she’d sounded. Bobby studied her closely as she fidgeted and started to pace towards the kitchen with him on her heels. “I’m not in love with Dean.” 

The idea that she could harbor romantic feelings towards the older Winchester brother made her stomach turn as the phantom pain started to make her skin tingle. In the wake of losing Sam, she’d managed to let go of her ill feelings towards him. The pain of losing the one person he loved more than himself was punishment enough for what he’d done. But that didn’t mean she could ever really feel anything more for him than cool indifference. 

“Emily,” Bobby said quietly, “where were you after Dean went to Hell?” 

Against her will, flickering images of the Pit flooded her mind, pushing against the inside of her skull as her body remembered what it felt like to be flayed alive over and over again. In spite of her lack of true compassion towards Dean, she didn’t want anyone else to know what had gone down in Hell between them. She couldn’t do that to the man she’d seen trying to pick up the pieces with the woman he’d moved in with after Sam went into the cage. He was struggling enough as it was without her scratching open old wounds. It was why she’d avoided reaching out to him at all. No one knew she’d been keeping tabs on Dean at all, but she hadn’t been able to help it. She was pretty sure his soul was earmarked to return to Hell if he died and if she’d taken losing Sam so poorly, he was definitely at risk. She didn’t want him going back there before he’d had a chance to experience some real happiness to carry him through an eternity of torture. And, truth was, she didn’t think she could handle both brothers being Hell. She’d needed to keep at least Dean above ground while she looked for a way to save Sam from the cage, regardless of what he’d done. 

“Emily,” Bobby said in quiet alarm. “Put the knife down.” 

Emily frowned at him before she looked down at the hand that had been flipping her hunting knife back and forth by the handle. Somehow, she’d managed to flip the blade around and was squeezing it tightly. Blood flowed rapidly from the growing wound and splashed onto the linoleum as she let the knife go. The blade clattered to the floor as Bobby grabbed her by the wrist and slapped a clean dish towel against her wound before leading her the dining table to sit her down. He moved quicker than she’d though his old bones would let him as he gathered his first aid kit and sat down to stitch up the wound. She knew she should have been shocked by her actions of self-harm, but in a dark way she understood why she’d done it. The pain she’d experienced in Hell was old and dull, but it could still suck her in if it caught her off guard. If she felt physical pain that was fresh and new, it snapped her out of the time she’d spent in Hell as Dean’s favorite chew-toy. 

She’d followed Dean down into the Pit after she’d seen how badly Sam took his loss. That was the first time she’d tried to talk to him since they were teenagers, but he’d accused her of being a demon trying to screw with his whiskey soaked mind. He’d tried to stab her with a ritual knife he’d taken off a demon and she’d had to flee before her instinct to kill kicked in. She hadn’t trusted herself around him after that and decided the only way to save him was to get his brother back. She’d gone to her mother’s gods again and bought her way across the border to Hell by way of Tartarus. She hadn’t been quiet about her return either and let the demons capture her in an effort to find where they held their favorite captives. Alastair had smiled when he saw her, licking his lips in anticipation of having her on his rack. But he’d never laid a finger on her. Instead, he’d served her up as the first victim for Dean to slice when he’d finally caved to the demon’s deal to stop torturing him if he picked up the knife. 

Dean had protested at first, yelling at the demon that he was sick for making the soul he’d been given look so much like a friend from his past. Alastair had laughed and offered to put him back on the rack instead, but Dean hadn’t been able to choose her over himself. So, she’d done the only thing she could to protect him from the anguish. She’d started hissing and spitting nasty truths about her failures, taking the blame for every bad thing that had happened to the brothers onto her own shoulders until he’d become so disgusted by the sight of her that he’d smiled as he tore into her flesh. And, all the while, she’d laughed between her screams. She’d wanted him to hate her. She’d wanted him to keep up his end of the deal to save him from Alastair’s attentions and he’d played right into it. She was just as much to blame as he was for his fall from grace. Knowing that helped her forgive him. 

When he’d asked for her to torture again, she’d started their session with a heartfelt promise to forgive him and a quiet confession that she’d always love him as a brother, whether she’d meant it or not at the time. He hated her for her forgiveness and tortured her ruthlessly for it. She knew her refusal to hate him twisted him up and made him feel worse. He spent their sessions mumbling to himself that, if she’d been good enough to hold Sam’s attention and prevented him from going to college, he would have never had to experience the pain that he had. Part of his training at Alastair’s hands was to see into the heart of his victim and rub salt in their deepest wounds. But she knew that trick all too well. Theirs was a twisted game of unbridled cruelty. 

“There,” Bobby said quietly, snapping her out of her memories. She looked down to see that he’d stitched up the deep cut and wrapping in clean gauze. 

“I don’t want to talk about where I was,” she said quietly. “And as far as anyone else is concerned, I couldn’t give two shits about the Winchester brothers. You hear me? No one can know how far I’m willing to go for those boys. Ever.” 

Bobby frowned at her cold declaration but didn’t question her. Above them, she heard Sam starting to yell at the top of his lungs. With a heavy breath, she pushed herself up out of the chair she’d been sitting in and patted Bobby’s shoulder in thanks as she passed. 

“I’m going to go talk to him,” she said before she left. “I’m going to try and get an idea of what we’re dealing with, but I don’t want you interrupting unless you hear gunfire.” 

She didn’t wait for his reply as she hit the stairs, checking to make sure the safety on her SIG Saur Mosquito was on before entering the room Sam was in. His muscles strained as he pulled against the ropes holding him down and his face was turning bright red as he yelled some rather colorful insults with her name attached. He stopped when the door clicked closed and she crossed her arms under her breasts as she started at him. His eyes snapped to her at the sound and his gaze raked over her, making her skin tingle again. She hated that he had that effect on her when she needed to see him as a threat. But Bobby was right. She knew, no matter what, she would bow to the man before her as her undisputed master if he wished her to. She was hard wired to submit to him, to give him everything she had to offer without a second thought, and she was afraid he knew it. 

“You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, little one,” he said in a growl that bordered on a purr that sent more electric tingles down her spine as her body answered the call of the lust in his eyes. “First, you tease me in the alley and then you tie me up with no intentions of finishing what you started? You’re just begging to be punished, aren’t you, little one?” 

Emily ground her teeth together as she unfolded her arms to press her thumb into the freshly stitched wound in her palm, wincing as the pain overrode her rampaging hormones. His eyes flicked to movement and then back to her face as she took a deep breath. 

“What are you?” she asked levelly, not taking her eyes away from his. 

“Your lord and master,” he said with a smirk and she looked away. “You think Dean didn’t tell me what he saw you do in the field? I know what you are, Emily. I know what you’re trained to do.” 

“You’re not Sam,” she said. “You don’t have the right to claim me.” 

“I am me,” he said, smiling when she looked back at him. “And I can prove it.” 

“How?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“Come here,” he said and her body lurched forward, unable to deny his command. Her heart thundered in her chest as her feet moved towards the bed. The feeling of being under his control rolled through her, waking up the instinct to care for him in whatever way she could and proving that he was right. Only the real Sam could turn her into a submissive with a single command. “What happened to your hand, little one?” he asked quietly and she could see the possessive, protective instinct in him wake up having her so near to him. That was how their roles worked by way of the bond they shared. The closer they were physically, the more powerful the drive. 

“It slipped on a knife,” she said, not wanting to tell him that she’d done it on purpose. 

“And who cared for you?” he asked, jealousy flashing in his eyes briefly. 

“Bobby,” she said and crossed her arms again. “Does that bother you?” 

“I don’t like the idea of anyone else touching my things,” he said darkly. 

“You don’t own me,” she said with much less conviction than she would have liked. She was struggling to keep herself in check as it was, but the idea of belonging to him made her insides feel like jelly. She’d always felt like a piece of her was missing in his absence and the idea of finally being able to close that gap was too seductive to ignore or deny. 

“Sure I do,” he said with a smirk. “Ever since I made you come in the alley you’ve been itching to have me inside you. To let me claim you properly. That’s what your kind was made for wasn’t it? To bond with hunters and ensure their safety as well as their bloodlines.” 

“If you really want to be that crass about it,” she said, squeezing her hand again to try and get her head on straight. “But there’s more to it than that. What happened in the alley was a mistake.” 

“Are you sure about that, little one?” he asked, flexing as his wrists worked against the ropes and she saw them getting looser. “Come over here and kiss me. Then tell me it was a mistake.” 

“You want me to kiss the man who was threatening to end me just a few minutes ago?” she asked, shaking her head as she reached over him to tighten his restraints. “You’re insane.” 

She would have said more if he hadn’t managed to get his other hand free as she focused on the first. His hand snapped out and grabbed her by the back of her neck again, pulling her down to his lips before she had time to react. She only struggled feebly before she kissed him back and felt him smile against her lips. With his one free arm, he grabbed her by the waist and moved her over him so he could deepen the kiss while she straddled his hips. His tongue brushed against her bottom lip, silently asking permission to taste her, and she let him in easily. His hand left her back briefly and then returned once he’d freed his other wrist. He sat up with her in his lap, pulling her down by the waist as he pressed his hips up into her. It wasn’t the desperate mauling it had been in the alley. To her surprise, he explored her body through her clothes with deliberate care and compassion. When he slipped his hand under her shirt to cup her breast through her bra, she gasped into his mouth and he pulled back to look at her. 

“Is this OK?” he asked quietly and she saw the light of the boy she’d fallen in love with return to his eyes. Whatever was wrong with him was taking a backseat to his need to care for her. When she bit her bottom lip and nodded, he slid his other hand inside her shirt, pushing the material up until her could pull it off over her head. His head dipped down to capture her nipple through the black lace of her bra, the humid warmth of his mouth making the peak of her breast harden as he teased it. She couldn’t fight the moan that rolled up her throat and the satisfied chuckle in the back of his throat had her grip his head by the hair to hold him where he was. She felt his fingers working at her back as he undid the clasp of her bra with one hand, popping it free and tossing it on the floor before returning to her breast. She squirmed on his lap, wanting more, and raked her nails up his back as she pulled his shirt off over his head. “Untie my ankles, little one,” he said in a husky voice. “I want to have the freedom to move while I’m inside you.” 

She didn’t even think to argue as she turned on his lap to do as he said. She made quick work of the ropes and squeaked when he flipped her onto her back, pressing himself back between her thighs. He caught the noise in his mouth as he claimed her lips again and started to grind against her core. She was already aching for him, practically clawing at his belt to undo it when he chuckled. He grabbed her hands away from his jeans and pinned them up next to her head as he moved from her lips to the side of her neck and across her collarbone, nipping occasionally before kissing the sting away. He returned to her lips briefly before pushing himself up onto his knees with a grin that sent a shiver down her spine. He reached beneath her long enough to pull her gun from the holster at the small of her back and set it on the nightstand before he trailed his hands down from shoulders to her waist. The feeling of his rough skin against hers made her back arch and she blinked up at him with a dazed expression as his eyes latched onto the primary tattoo on her side. 

“A rifle?” he asked quietly. 

“A Winchester 1885,” she said, taking a deep breath as she watched the realization that it was her memorial to him take root in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he said, his eyes returning to hers. “As soon as I figured out what you were to me, I should have found you and apologized then. Or never left you in the first place.” 

“It’s OK, Sam,” she said easily, reaching up to cut his strong jaw in her hand. “It’s in the past.” 

He turned his head and kissed her palm before bending down to kiss the rifle on her ribs. He kissed his way across her stomach and back up again, capturing the tip of her breast between his front teeth before closing his soft lips around it and sucking it into his mouth again. His hot tongue teased the sensitive skin until her hand her squirming against him in silent pleading. His answering chuckle rumbled in his throat as he slid his hand down between her legs, cupping her through her jeans as she rocked against the heel of his hand. He only allowed her a few brief moments of delicious friction before her pulled away to undo the zipper, shoving the material down enough for him to slip his hand inside her panties with a groan. 

“You’re so wet, little one,” he growled against her skin and returned to her lips as he curled his middle finger up through her folds before sliding it inside her. She whimpered a little at the invasion and her hips bucked as he curled his finger again to put pressure on her g-spot. He pulled his hand out as he left her lips and ran his tongue deliberately over his soaked finger, never taking his eyes off hers as she watched him. “I want to taste you more,” he said and she nodded absently, giving him the permission he was seeking. 

In a single brute move, he yanked her jeans and panties down until they caught on her boots. He gripped the material in his hand and shoved it down to mattress, pinning her feet down as he shifted his position. His massive shoulders pressed her knees apart, stretching her almost painfully wide as he kissed the flowers that dotted her hip and down her thigh. She knew the moment he realized how exposed she’d had to get in order for the artist to continue her running tally of kills by the growl that rumbled in his throat. His eyes speared hers up the length of her body and he slid the fingers of his free hand inside her again. 

“This is mine,” he said darkly, pressing in hard and leaning the heel of his hand against her clit to make sure she understood what he was talking about. “You’re mine now, little one. No more tattoos below the belt without me present. Understood?” She bit her bottom lip and nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. He pressed the heel of his hand against her harder and growled. “Say it.” 

“Yes,” she said with a gasp as pleasure rocked through her. 

“Yes, what?” he growled and nipple at the hollow of her hip. 

“Yes, Master,” she groaned, making him smirk against her skin. 

“Good girl,” he said and shifted to reward her obedience with a swipe of his tongue up her center. 

He lapped slowly and deliberately at her folds, using his fingers to spread them open so he could swirl the tip of his tongue around her clit. His other hand abandoned holding her ankles down in order to torment her exposed breasts as he savored her. She whimpered and clenched her finger in his hair as the tension spooled in her lower belly, the pleasure he was giving her bringing her to the brink but not allowing her to crash over the edge. He made a noise of smug male pride as he hit the sweet spot inside her with his fingers again and her hips started bucking wildly. He captured the little bundle of nerves at the top of her slit between his teeth and sucked gently, making her back arch uncontrollably as stars started to dance behind his name left her lips in a plea. In a quick move, his lips left her clit and his teeth found the inside of her thigh. The hand that had been kneading her breasts shot up to cover her mouth as she screamed her release and he continued to bit down on the sensitive skin of her thigh, marking her. Satisfied with the mark he’d made, his lips returned to her clit to draw out the waves of pure pleasure the crashed through her, lapping up everything her body could give him. She could barely focus through the bright sparks dancing in her vision and she kissed the palm covering her mouth reverently. Feeling her moving with some semblance of control, he kissed a path back up her body, pausing to wipe his mouth on the sheet before replacing his hand with his lips. 

“I want to come inside you,” he whispered and she didn’t even bother arguing. If the bruise forming on her thigh wasn’t enough of a brand, the fact that she didn’t want any other man told her he was right. She belonged to him. Always had. Always would. In those moments, with the tenderness she felt in his touch no matter how dominant and deliberate, he wasn’t the cold, brutal hunter she’d been tracking. He was her Sam again. And she loved him with every piece of her heart and soul. 

She kissed him deeply and held on tight as he continued to worship her body with his touch. When she started pulling at the front of his jeans, needing him inside her, he chuckled and smiled down at her. 

“You want me that badly, little one?” he asked, already knowing the answer by the amusement in his eyes. 

She responded by popping the button of his jeans open and sliding her hand inside to stroke him. His head rocked back and he let out a guttural groan as she touched his hard length, relishing the sensation of his soft skin sliding over a solid core. He only let her play for a few moments before he pulled her hand out and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. With the other, he shoved the material of his pants and boxers down his hips, allowing his huge cock to spring free. 

The tip was already glistening as he lined himself up, resting his thickly swollen head against her core. His heat seared into her as he slowly pressed in, careful not to go to fast. She could feel herself starting to stretch, accommodating his substantial size, when a loud bang from downstairs stopped them in their tracks. The sound of raised, angry voices had him up off the bed, tucking himself away and zipping up his pants with a sour expression that made her wonder if she should be worried. She followed his lead quickly, replacing her underwear and jeans before he tossed her shirt to her. She didn’t bother replacing her bra as he pulled his own shirt on and took her by the hand to lead her downstairs to find Bobby squaring off with Sam’s grandfather, Samuel. Sam let go of her hand, leaving her on the last step, to get between them. He used his size as an advantage over the older hunters and forced his grandfather back towards the door as he growled for Samuel to calm down. 

“What the hell, Sam?” the bald man snapped, glaring at his grandson in disbelief. “This old drunk sends his little whore to kidnap you and you’re defending them?” 

Sam bared his teeth and slammed the old hunter against the front door, pressing his forearm against his grandfather’s throat as he leaned into his face. 

“Talk about her like that again, and I will end you, old man,” he said in a voice that froze the blood in Emily’s veins. Without thinking, Emily darted to his side and put her hand on his arm, snapping him out of his rage. He looked down at her in question before he seemed to realize what he was doing and let Samuel go. His grandfather coughed and sputtered as Sam grabbed her by the hand again and dragged her back up the steps. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said as he closed the bedroom door after leading her back inside. 

“Like what?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and crossing her arms over her chest. While they’d been intimate with each other, she’d been awake and buzzing with energy. But as soon as the predatory beast inside him had reared its ugly head again, she’d started getting exhausted again. The constant up and down of her energy level was really getting on her nerves. 

“Like you’re afraid of me,” he said. 

“Well, I am,” she said bluntly, too tired to speak anything but the truth. “You’re not you right now, Sam. The way you touched me and kissed me in bed? That was the kind, decent man I fell in love with when I was fourteen. That I still love to this day. But the vicious animal that attacked his own kin? That’s not my Sam. My Sam would never hurt his family.” 

“You’re more my family than he is,” Sam said, shaking his head before pausing to look at her. “Wait,” he said as a smirk started to hover at the corners of his mouth as he closed the distance between himself and where she sat on the bed, dropping to kneel between her knees. “You love me?” 

“Yes,” she said, “the real you.” He ignored the correction and rocked up to capture her lips with his again. Her toes curled in her boots as he poured every ounce of passion his body held into a kiss that screamed that she belonged to him. “Sam,” she said softly, putting her hand on his chest to push him back reluctantly. “We can’t. Campbell is already pissed and the last thing I want is for him to burst in here and see me naked. Especially if he’s trying to shoot me.” 

“I’d kill him first,” he said seriously. 

“I know,” she said with a heavy breath. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

He finally nodded after a moment and then smirked at her mischievously. “You do realize, eventually, we’re going to have to finish what we started, right?” 

“I’m aching for it,” she said with a purr that made him groan as he kissed her again greedily. He kissed her senseless before he forced himself to stop and stood up. He crossed the room to the small desk against the wall where she’d done her homework as a kid. He grabbed a small pad of paper and a pen, scribbling something on it before handing it to her. When she looked at it, she chuckled. It was a small list of phone numbers. 

“Next time you want to see me, just call,” he said and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “And leave the tranquilizers at home.” 

“I promise nothing,” she said, making him grin as he kissed her again and left. 


End file.
